


Partition

by Hooda



Series: Anthology [7]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars
Genre: (Not), Angst, Angst AF, F/M, jyn and cassian elevator scene and little flashbacks, these two really need a happy ending by haha I wrote this so maybe not, they each think the other is dead, they get separated, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hooda/pseuds/Hooda
Summary: In those buffeted minutes of mutual silence they grieve. They grieve for the ones who volunteered and lost their lives; they grieve for the chances spent until there were none left for themselves; they grieve a mission upended and balancing on the precipices of hope. More than anything, they grieve for themselves and the lives they could have gone to lead beyond the rogue mission.The blaster hangs numbly in his hand that is pressed around her waist, half holding Jyn up, who in turn holds him standing. It would be so easy - just a lift of his wrist and the barrel would be inches from her neck - to end it now. It would be quick and easier than the inferno threatening to swallow them._______Post-Scarif / PTSD / Angst / they each think the other is dead





	Partition

**Author's Note:**

> He becomes almost untouchable to the Alliance - a war hero who loathes the title; a spy with his face plastered across the Empire; a survivor of a fleeting breath of hope for the galaxy. Where others look to the budding young Jedi for bright dreams of hope for the future of the universe, they look at Cassian with torn expressions.

_ Through the thick darkness of the bunker, she feels along the cold floor for the handheld lantern. Jyn’s fingers clasp onto the metal corners and shake it to life. Her cheeks are tinged with tear streaks as the soft orange-red light hums awake. It basks her in a fake warmth, one that little Jyn wished so very hard could have been real. _

_ For what feels like hours, she curls into the safety of her bent knees to her chin. One hand stays wrapped around the Kyber necklace tightly, the other on the small knife handle jutting out from the end of her pack. _

_ She whimpers quietly to herself and furiously wipes away the tears that leak from the crinkles of her eyes with a dirty sleeve. The cold was unbearable and wet. Puddles adorned the floor of the crude bunker, seeping into her clothes. _

He has to sling an arm over her shoulders uncomfortably, but Jyn manages to help Cassian limp through the doors of the lift. The doors cut off the bright sunlight and pristine beach views. They cannot see the green flash through the sky, arching through the atmosphere and kissing the ground in an inferno. They feel the quake of the blast, deep and far away as the lift speeds downwards.

_ The light of the lantern wanes and brightens, like it was struggling to keep itself alive. She shakes it gently with numb fingers. It peters out for a moment, only to return seconds later in earnest. The warm light comes in intervals, but struggles. _

Her shoulder is warm and solid where he leans his weight. The shadows of the lift pass over them in black and whites, relentless and leaching the color from their already ashen faces. Blood speckles across her face like freckles.

In those buffeted minutes of mutual silence they grieve. They grieve for the ones who volunteered and lost their lives; they grieve for the chances spent until there were none left for themselves; they grieve a mission upended and balancing on the precipices of hope. More than anything, they grieve for themselves and the lives they could have gone to lead beyond the rogue mission.

The blaster hangs numbly in his hand that is pressed around her waist, half holding Jyn up, who in turn holds him standing. It would be so easy - just a lift of his wrist and the barrel would be inches from her neck - to end it now. It would be quick and easy.

The metal floor clangs loudly when the blaster hits it.

Instead, they watch each other carefully through the wane of the lights. The descent begins to slow, a sign they are reaching the bottom.

Jyn claps her hand over his wrist to keep him from moving away.

“Thank you,” she tells him.

“For what?”

Jyn gulps heavily. “For coming back.”

The doors whoosh open before he can say anything. Broken ships and bodies are sprawl across the platforms, but they lean their weight together and hobble out together. The horizon burns magnificently and the inferno rolls steady towards them, tipping tides and burning as high as the atmosphere.

They should have known better than to think that any sane sentient - Imperial or rebel- would have thought to flee for a means of escape the moment the terrifying bolt of green lanced for Scarif.

The Stormtroopers reach for Jyn first since she is the one supporting both of their weight. A gloved hand grabs her shoulder that is not supporting their combined weight and pulls her back harshly. Neither of them had even heard the clanking of boots over the roaring cloud of an inferno they hobbled towards.

She manages to gulp down a scream and instead yelp Cassian’s name. He reaches for the blaster at his hip. Terror floods his nerves when his hands slap at empty space and remembers letting it go moments before.

In the distance, a rebel barge lowers close to the ground, pelting them with buffeting air from the engines. The hatch opens and a trio of soldiers - armed to the teeth and bloody to the sinew - hurl out.

A Stormtrooper grabs Jyn by the vest and yanks her backwards, feet stumbling but her grip on Cassian even stronger. Another ‘trooper comes into Jyn’s line of vision and something inside of her breaks.

Maybe it was the lifetime of failure clawing its way out of Jyn’s bones, or the lifelong grief that seems to envelope her since the disappearance of her family nearly two decades earlier. But the moment she sees the blaster lifting to point at the rebels Jyn completely and maddeningly  _ let go _ .

With a feral scream, she claws and fights the ‘troopers that surround her. Fists bang bloodily against white armor and the sky threatens to swallow them in fire and ash any minute, but Jyn fights relentlessly.

“Jyn!” Cassian screams. A rebel hoists him to his feet to lead him to the waiting ship. The other two soldiers pick off Stormtroopers. They begin to crowd the platform, closing in on the rebels. She stands in the center, bloody and wild-eyed, heaving and aching.

“Jyn - come on!”

It was too late and they both know it. The Stormtroopers surround her in a wall of white with their blasters hoisted. In the distance, she hears Cassian’s voice screaming her name until the hatch door cuts him off and the ship rises.

Even with the world erupting around them, they stay organized when they drag her to an unoccupied and undamaged ship. There is no easier opponent to beat than one who has already surrendered. The ramp lowers.

She is cuffed as she boards.

The ramp lifts, blocking out the burning horizon.

Something blunt hits the back of Jyn’s head and the universe goes dark.

_______

There was so much screaming.

He screams for the end and for redemption, for a blaster to the head and every name he ever regrets cleaning from existence. Through the drugs and the bacta submersions, he screams in silent agony, like his skin was tinged with a fire that he was rescued from.

It leaves Draven with wide eyes and solemn face. He watches from behind a glass observation window as a Mon Calamari oversees a medical droid administering sedatives one day and attempting to feed Cassian like a child the next.

Mon Mothma sneaks in during the quieter hours when he is asleep under the heavy influences of the medications. Her hand rests over Cassian’s like a lifeline, eyes somber.

“You gave us hope.” Her rich voice was laden with sadness rooted further than Cassian ever cared to unearth. “How can the galaxy  _ ever _ repay you?”

Through the painkillers and grief breaking through the lifelong militaristic facade, she watches as the sorrow paints his eyes darker than humanly possible. His voice cracks when he talks, but he is heard no matter what.

“You can bring  _ her _ back.”

The tragedy in the situation of their existences was that there was no second chance for Jyn, no second rescue or chance of knowing what it meant to outlive a death sentence.

Mon Mothma watches as his eyes glaze over again, turning to stare aimlessly at the wall across opposite the recovery bed. Her hand slips from his and back into her pocket.

_______

They take Hoth for themselves after wandering aimlessly through the stars.

_______

He becomes almost untouchable to the Alliance - a war hero who loathes the title; a spy with his face plastered across the Empire; a survivor of a fleeting breath of hope for the galaxy. Where others look to the budding young Jedi for bright dreams of hope for the future of the universe, they look at Cassian with torn expressions.

_______

He tracks down a weaponsmith within the masses of hangar technicians to melt down the tools used to reprogram K2-SO into two dozen bullets. They roll across his palm, gleaming and rounded to fit the rifle strung across the door of his room.

_______

They find her three months after Scarif; two and a half after the Death Star is reduced to dust to clog Yavin’s atmosphere; two after Cassian regains full control over his recovering limbs; one month after he disappears into the deeper recesses of the shadows of the Alliance, seen by few and known by many.

Kes has to help her down the ramp with an arm strung across her shoulders as a means of support. The Imperial grey prisoner’s jumper hangs loosely from her limbs. Her hair brushes no farther than collarbone and looser than she has ever had it in years.

_______

The first time he sees Jyn since Scarif, she is fast asleep. The deep, dark ringlets circling her eyes and lack of color to her skin burns his nerves. The white shirt she wears as hospital attire cannot keep the even darker bruises from showing through.

She sleeps greedily, like there would never be an opportunity for rest this safe again if she opened her eyes. For days, she greets him with closed eyes and steady breaths.

But when they do open, they slowly and surely focus on the familiar blue parka slung over Cassian’s lap. They trace over his growing beard and haggard face and slumping shoulders as he leans back against the wall.

The weeks of screaming leave her throat dry and parched, but nothing need be said when his eyes catch hers. All that matters is his hand when it comes to rest over hers warmly and the cadence of his voice. All that matters is the fleeting grin he flashes her.

“Welcome home,  _ Stardust _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments - pos or neg - are always adored!


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